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Begins: Apr 22, 2017
Date: Sun, Jun 19th, 2016
Trip Distance: 2,215.6
Entry Visits: 625
Journal Visits: 90,717
Guestbook Views: 5,416
Guestbook Entrys: 17
Last evening, we sat and drank beer with Apricot and Psycho in the courtyard outside our motel room under an old unusual thick-trunked tree that seemed meant for this hot climate. We talked about times on the trail and I could tell Kerry was waiting for his sister to call and when the call came, the sound of the phone was jarring in the restful night. His beloved dad, Jackson, had died peacefully, his daughters at his side.
Synchronicity gives cohesion and meaning to life at times like these. That Kerry spoke to his dad a couple of days ago, and he was able to answer him, I think his last words to his son were, "I'm too tired to talk, and I love you."
Then Kerry dreamed about him yesterday and in the morning he called him and was able to talk to him once more, an added gift. That we were here in Cuba and not off in the wilds of New Mexico, out of touch for days was amazing.
Last night as we sat in the courtyard, and before we heard that Kerry's dad had died, a woman approached us from one of the adjoining rooms and asked us what we were doing. We talked about our hike and bike ride and she offered that she and her friend and their two husbands were in Cuba to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of Catholic Daughters of the Americas and would be returning home to Albuquerque tomorrow. Later, when we knew we had to get home to Oakland, I knocked on their door and asked if they would give us a ride to the airport. They never hesitated, with a "yes", both couples in their 70s, how generous!
As we drove South toward Albuquerque, the searing heat rose from the land around us, and as we drove further South, the air grew increasingly hazy with smoke from the fires we had heard about. And we thought, this was one more gift from Dad, to get us off the trail to keep us safe from fearsome heat and raging fires.
Death, like weddings and births, provides a huge punctuation mark in our lives. And so, this leg of our CDT journey must end for now, and that's o.k. The trail will still be there when we return.
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